Thursday, 28 August 2014

Forever Scratching That Existential Itch

Where to start with this one? I was sent a digital copy of Saul Jarvie's solo LP Existential Eczema over a month ago - it was well before I left Australia at any rate - by good dude Chris Yates (Dollar Bar, Bong YZA, The Young Liberals, heaps of other stuff). I was caught straight off the bat by 'Tracks Line Up' and I realised it was the first album in months where the lyrics really mattered to me. I couldn't help but feel like I was being drawn into someone else's worldview in a guitar drawl balladry akin to the darker edges of 90s indie fare - the atmospherics that 21st century bands can very rarely approach without sounding bombastic or overtly emotional, a sense of obviousness attached to their lyrics. But with 'The Other Side of the Firelight', when those very lyrics are sung, my heart quavered. There is almost a rebelliousness to such bare storytelling, in that it resonates both on a personal level for the songwriter and for the listener. Again, I feel that this particular purpose of music has been overlooked by much of this generation's musicians - I'm not even saying that is a bad thing - do we need another Something For Kate or Sandpit? They already existed; you can't better them (the reissue of Sandpit's On Second Thought on vinyl is a glaring example). But Jarvie, member of post-rock acolytes Rival Flight back in the day, has a timbre of voice and intricacy of spirit that makes these bold, atmospheric ruminations at once magnetic and dramatic. No, there aren't many albums like Existential Eczema anymore. But when it is crafted as beautifully as this one is, that is a goddamn crime.

Everyone should head here right this minute and pick up a copy, it's bloody great.

Move Your Frown Upside Clouds

Humming; Humming Like dunduddundundun... Like bass and wailing guitar and lyrics about “people” moving places. Places like sideways and your way. Most likely with something to offer you. If this is what happens when you legalise everything - like, if you can blow yourself a joyous kazoo to get through the day and then change whatever you’re doing halfway through just to boogie down – I say legalise it all. Now.

Pre-order the new album from The Frowning Clouds, Legalize Everything (out through the prolific Rice is Nice in Aus, and Saturno Records elsewhere) now and have people move it towards you soon.

Wednesday, 27 August 2014

Video Vacuum - Trans Am, Catman, Pere Ubu, Lower Spectrum, Whirling Hall Of Knives, Goat, Ghost Wave

I'm moving house today. So I'm not going to be able to do any posts I'm afraid. So here is a lengthy A/V gem that I prepared earlier...

I mentioned earlier this year that I was pretty happy to hear Trans Am were bringing out a new album. In fact I had pangs of sadness when packing my things to move to the UK and found my copy of Futureworld that I hadn't listened to in years - enough for it to soundtrack an afternoon of throwing out clothes and taping up boxes. Here is the film clip for 'Insufficiently Breathless' - a subdued, sonorous affair with film-like breadth, and the ethereal, woodsian music video fits the music perfectly. Hoping to see these guys play once more before 2014's candle burns out.

I spoke very favourably of Catman, the solo outfit for Adam Rogan. His guitar suite The Singapore Demos was a killer example of how to sweep away all semblances of the self in pure music. He is back with a new track, 'Joo Koon', and it continues the amazing vibes - I have listened to this song non-stop all day. Just hearing this reminds me of how much I love Mark McGuire's Living With Yourself - and how good Catman is. So many more people need to indulge in this magic.

Trans Am onto Catman, then swinging back to an older classic band that are continuing their "comeback" in the form of Pere Ubu. A band I never thought I would get to see, but saw them at the Melbourne ATP last year (you know, the Altona one - the good one?) 'Golden Surf II' continues the brooding, bracing rock deathmarch that the avant-noise-weirdniks refuse to let go of, and in the process have crafted one of the most deliciously off-the-wall killers that they have brought out in some time. The beauty of the film clip is that Pere Ubu can sustain a band-filmed-in-a-room clip because of their ubiquity and magnetism, but the flick-card images that hammer throughout add the extra slice of the macabre. Great stuff.

Ned Buckley's climb as Lower Spectrum continues, now with the launch of the film clip for his single 'Khlever'. Another exquisitely shot clip that utilises the austere environs for its own nefarious aims, the alien objects and symbols shown throughout becoming more arcane in the frozen terrain that the young protagonist wanders through. Pagan ritualism based in the ancient future.

Further down the rabbithole we go, into the trancelike noise of Ireland's Whirling Hall of Knives. 'Scrap Assembly' blasts out like a warning siren, a nuclear meltdown of the senses, a groove intent on internal destruction, yet insistent on muscular movement and emotional attachment. The clip again creates this claustrophobic miasma of contracting and expanding, the tension growing just behind the cerebral vortex, the ghost in the machine in the self. Disturbingly simple, destructively seductive.

Goat have a new record out soon called Commune. I loved World Music. I really dig these krautrock demons from Sweden. And whilst 'Words' could have had a much more visceral film clip than this one, there is something foreboding and hypnotising about the triangles here. The band has always enjoyed angular design with their artwork, as well as multicoloured splashes, so the film clip still fits into the Goatosphere... Still, I want the masks and faux-camp darkness. This is an electric taste of what is to come though, so I'm not complaining.

OK, so let's try and pull out of this existential nosedive with one last clip. New Zealand band Ghost Wave have in 'Who's Doin' The Talkin'' crafted a languid psyc-out that is hazed and easy on the soul. Unabashed love of the motorik beat - as am I. Let's take a load off and unwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind...


Step Panther to the Jugular

(Post by Fred Savage Beasts)

The guitars in this new Step Panther single are so shiny. SO shiny. They sound a bit like they came from outer space, or, at least, got reflected back from some satellite picking up stray laments pouring out of a drive through speaker box somewhere near your place. Metallic beams, straight from the heart. There is a mention of some kind of swamp thing, but there’s no swamp here. Apart from the swamp in your home town - the one you  get caught in when the person you love moves somewhere far away and you’re left ordering fast food for the third night in a row.

Tuesday, 26 August 2014


A deliberately sparse and haunting siren call of leather steampunk caught in the dub excess of William Gibson's less lucid moments, Melbourne nightcrawlers Exek really have hit a nerve with their new release. The ex-Slug Guts and Martyr Privates vehicle is the closest thing yet to a Melbourne band actually living on the outer regions of all parallel universes. 'A Hedonist' feels like Ennio Morricone on a space-age Rastafarian bent, with instruments frayed and blasted from time and neglect. The experimentation with instruments (glockenspiel, saxophone, violin, triangle, glasses) to create an ephemeral bedrock for Adrian Wolski's disembodied warbles creates a languid wasteland with which the songs float, in a green room of wavering consciousness and emotions. It's a brooding beast of a release, but Exek proves there is life on other much, much more distant planets than this one.

Buy Exek from TIME /\ SPACE Record Co. here. They have played shows recently with the likes of Cobwebbs and White Walls, but have gone underground for a while. In between the lines and minds. But stay intuned...

Aussie Electronic Wash

OK, let's start today on some sepulchral electronics from the sunburnt netherworld, shall we?

First up is Andy Citawarman, most notably recognised as the crazy man that wasn't Joe McKee from hugely underrated Western Australian outfit Snowman. They put together some of the most deliciously claustrophobic and dark performances I've ever seen - true mental catharsis through self-flagellation. Third album Absence saw the band come to its (sadly) logical conclusion, with the gnashing of teeth gone but that sense of encroachment and paranoia still fervently in place. Citawarman has not been completely quiet though - he has been crafting gossamer wash electronic theatrics for a few years now. 'For Velvet Rain' is supposedly written for his niece, but it's hard to tell - opening with operatic piano and soaring melancholic ghostly effects before dissolving into a white-noise trance, repetition through obliteration. The Fuck Buttons comparison here isn't just fair but obligatory - this is a journey through the blurred outer realms. Extremely exciting, and waiting anxiously for the next instalment.

Andrew McLellan and Joel Stern are two other Australian artists who have a lot of musical outlets. The thing is, they are all beguiling creatures unto themselves. Stern's improvised instrument experiment Sky Needle is probably the most obvious one, whilst McLellan's Cured Pink is an ever-evolving melange of worldly noise in a manicured teacup, stewing restlessly for the new niche yet never finding it (and never truly wanting to). The two of them have joined forces before of course through the busted sonic whirr in Greg Boring, a band that revels more in what doesn't work than what does. When making music together as Soft Power though, we see the melding of some truly mesmeric minds (joining the duo is Josh Watson (Sewers) and Sophia Brous). It is Brous though that steals the proverbial show - her discombobulated vocals drift in and out of the nebulous mix like an otherworldly swami with hiccups, creating an ethereal dialogue between the real and the self that I'm not even sure she understands. But it is the rocking-chair analogous monotony of the music that combines with Brous' vocals to provide a hypnotic mantra, all pastel hallucinogens and out-of-focus pop paradigms. Soft Power has released an album through All Day Breakfasts, If You Come Around - a white-noise technicolour tune-out wonderland - buy it here.

Also based in Queensland is Kurt Eckardt AKA Astral Skulls. The combination of guitar and synth here creates a 16-bit platform for monotone vocals to create an interesting cross section of New Wave marching nihilism and post-millennial hypercolour movement and beats. The end result? An anarchic drumbeat of post-punk that bubbles more than boils, made for cassettes to jam into your Commodore 64. More, please.

The crew from Feral Media are a great collective that hold the pulse on weird electronic beats, and the last two artists for today are from their "stable". I know I have mentioned Setec previously - 'For Concrete Or Water' is still a burr in my sonic side - and he has finally released the album Brittle As Bones, so definitely warrants a mention here. The Cornelius and The Books comparisons can be picked up on in various spaces throughout the album, but above all Setec's palette seems to be a warmth, knitting together found sound, samples and sonorous vocals to create a personal work of heartbreaking beauty. Worthy of a review on its own (sorry Josh!), suffice to say that Brittle As Bones is a fantastic debut release.

But to finish off is the wonderful Clean Dirt, the new album from Melbourne weirdnik Bob Streckfuss AKA 0point1. The amalgamation of pop compositions and found sound electronic is used here in a intricate yet uncluttered Jenga tower, coalescing to emotions thought untouchable (see tracks like 'Radio Edit' and 'Wormchild Singalong'). Above all else there is a restless creativity here that belies childlike enthusiasm, straddling the industrial and the naturalistic. You can get Clean Dirt here on USB, coming with a bunch of fresh material.

Monday, 25 August 2014

Zooming Through with Voiceless oOo's

I have received a few emails from the band oOo. At first I thought it was that witchgaze dude oOoOO (or whatever that bloody "genre" Salem supposedly started) and whilst always intrigued I've always managed to put it on the backburner (turns out he's nothing really like Salem, and pretty good - more to come on that). Plus there has been another band that has come into my aural periphery of recent weeks, the Boredoms offshoot of OOIOO.

Yesterday I finally opened one of the emails and realised it wasn't that guy but a trio from Slovenia who are into improvised guitar music (complete with improvised lyrics) who are pretty bloody prolific. They have a great album from the tail end of last year called Zoom Yourself, and only last week released new jam 'How Can You Be Quiet?' I listened to these ambling, rambling, unhinged pieces all day today whilst doing a job application in the middle of torrential rain - the combined total effect being one of disorientation, slight psychosis and manic glee. Discordent, disembodied, delirious and about as far from witchgaze can be whilst still casting a pall over your senses. I could imagine the nooks and crannies of Ljubljana these guys create this music in - church naves, hollowed trees, graveyards, the kitchen... Nothing and everything is left to chance. Intriguing stuff.

Huffing Til I'm Blue

I was listening to the new Sleep song 'The Clarity' last night. Wow, what a...well, a stoner rock song? I wasn't all that enthused by it - sacrilege and all that, right? Instead I have been thinking about Huffer. No they don't do doom - but this LA duo embrace unease in a nebulous fashion that 'The Clarity' is unable to harness. The reason? Huffer's song 'Blue' is incredibly unhinged - for some reason I feel that this is the kind of glimpse you would have gotten into Harmony Korine's head around the time of Gummo (although it could be biased towards the fact I saw Kids in the cinema for the first time on Thursday). It squalls, it crawls, it lurks, it leers, it rolls its eyes into the back of its head and spit yellow flecked spit. It isn't overly evil though - Huffer are instead in tune with unleashing the deranged thoughts that hover just under the surface, an exfoliating purge that oozes rather than explodes. Consider me hooked.

Nothing Boring About Ice-Cream Dreams

Let's start off the week with a laconic bunch of ice-cream dreams. Melbourne's Bored Nothing has taken to a lysergic sugar-rush take on the slow burn narcoleptic guitar pop that Kurt Vile has been making his own of late - except without the stoned extended wigouts. Fergus Miller doesn't exude cool as much as excrete dreams - a drifting melange of half-remembered fantasies, eyelids at half-mast, always on the border of waking life and the subconscious.

Bored Nothing's Some Songs comes out in October on Spunk.

Sunday, 24 August 2014


Good night kids. Here is my end of the weekend trip. New Orleans five-piece Glish have crafted a particularly intense brand of shoegaze, equal parts frenetic and hazy, emotional and visceral. It's pretty great, and based on the brilliance of 'Stu Hunkington' I think this could be the year that these guys finally burst forth. Their self-titled album is out at the tail end of the year through Texas Is Funny Records, and I for one am waiting feverishly for this one.

Saturday, 23 August 2014

Brain Drugs Ooze From The Wound

As you are reading this, I am in Braintree. That is a little town in Essex. A killer, pagan-horror name for what is essentially a quaint little town. I am off to a wedding. I'm sure I will have a good time at said wedding. But it is a themed wedding - no not Game Of Thrones or something as dreadful (although I do enjoy the show), but possibly something infinitely worse - "festival chic." Jesus. Further investigation brought about the dress code for men as being checked shirts, decent coloured trousers, BOW TIES AND BRACES.

This had me physically trying not to retch. If EVER I dress like a member of the fucking Mumford & Sons you have the express wishes and gratitude of yours truly to beat me to death with my own braces and brogues.

So here is my antidote, to get me through the day. Oozing Wound is a band from Chicago that deal out thrashy metal in garish floods. Their influences (as labelled on Facebook, so you know they are true) stand as High On Fire, Black Sabbath, and the Beach Boys. I'm gonna take them on face value and agree wholeheartedly. And fuck it - I'm gonna need everything I can to get over the line here, so 'Drug Reference' - with its thrashing drums, lacerating vocals, and exact 4:20 minute runtime - is the kind of thing that will help elevate things above mere pretension and allow me to drink this free bar dry. In my Roku Music shirt at a twee wedding. DONE.

Oozing Wound - Drug Reference

Friday, 22 August 2014

School Break Ups

(NOT a pic of the band - but you get the idea)

Australian musicians are the fidgetiest bunch. Most are in a multitude of bands, with one the focus but a myriad of half-cooked ideas floating about spilling out in weirder and wilder realms. School Damage is no different - and yet definitely IS different, in that this relatively new four-piece seem fully formed. Formed by Jake Robertson (Ausmuteants, The Hierophants, The Frowning Clouds, Drug Sweat etc) and Carolyn Hawkins (Chook Race) with Danni Damage and Jeff Raty bringing in the rhythms, School Damage is the perfect amalgamation of all these exterior pursuits - synth silliness, mewling guitars, loose-limbed garage rock bluster, B52s-esque garishness run through the rusted grinder of grit-in-the-wound punk, monotone all adds up to a night with a beer-stained shirt and a shit-eating grin, loving life even while vomit flows down the slides at the local children's playground at three in the morning. They put out a cassette, Deep Net, on Moontown Tapes, and now have the impending 7" Break Up coming out of Detonic Recordings (Multiple Man, Diesel Dudes). All elements are present and accounted for on these three tracks, especially on the title track, which plays like a slow-swaying synth number of doo-wop-less pop before crashing into a guitar wash meltdown.

Grab your copy of Break Up here. School Damage launch this puppy on Friday August 29 at The Grace Darling alongside The Clits and Waterfall Person.

Thursday, 21 August 2014

(N)ever Halt The Limits Of The Body

Melbourne's Halt Ever surreptitiously brought out a new EP last month, Body Limits (out through Unwound Records). The 6-track 10" covers the gauntlet of raucous post-punk narcissism stretched and contorted, taut and strained, a razorwire enclosed case of tunnel vision.

Cuts and bruise prevail.

It's about thrashing the demons before the demons thrash you, in a vacuum of space, time and mind. The guitars in 'Growing Pains' for example build and build like pressure in your chest; your breath catches; sweat stains your upper lip; you threaten to drown in your own uneasy anticipation. It's an incredibly frantic and brutal instrumental display. The vocals though are equal parts Tom Lyngcoln-esque in their ocker banality/ferocity, and bottom-of-the-well-esque in the reverbed anguish and self-deprecation to the point of self-flagellation.

Cuts and bruises prevail, all right, and trust me, you will love how the sting lingers.

Body Limits can be picked up here. A full length album will be out in 2015 on the suddenly out of hibernation (and ever excellent) Lost Race Records. Halt Ever play alongside Bloodhounds On My Trail, Old Love and Midnight Bloom at Melbourne haunt The Public Bar this Friday night.

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Downward Synth Spiral With The French Police

Today seems to be a day of downward synth spirals - first Stress Waves, and now this split between Montreal bands Police des Moeurs and Essaie Pas (out through great French label Atelier Ciseaux). This is much more frantic in its delivery though, more evident of its post-punk origins, but still decidedly cyberpunk in fifty shades of black. Atonal vocals, stark percolating beats, spider-run synth, all creating a melody that jerks and twitches, seduces and shudders. If you have been a fan of the Dark Entries label reissues, or just love your underground early European electronic music with minimal/maximal cool, then this is absolutely for you. Burning in the shadows, giving into desires, freezing out the lesser-thans, indulging in the new flesh.

Video Vacuum - Crystal Stilts, Orlando Furious, Invisible Threads, Naked Bodies

Here is an old(ish) Video Vacuum that I've been meaning to post for about a month and forgot about, slipped through the cracks of time etc etc. Sorry about the delay. But now revel in some A/V madness...

One of the first interviews I ever did was with New York's psychers Crystal Stilts early in 2011. I was recording from home, had just bought a dictaphone (that I still use) and was interviewing singer Brad Hargett as the band tripped from Austin to New Orleans. It was a disaster - the mobile phone played havoc with the frequencies of the dictaphone so I had to try and shorthand on a small scrap of paper as Hargett spoke. People who know me can attest that my writing is pretty abysmal at the best of times, so it took a hell of a lot of deciphering and second-guessing to get the article to come to light. It's actually a pretty good end product. Mainly because i loved the band so much, and the experience, so it all stuck with me. If I had to interview some pop punk band again and that shit went down, I'd probably think "Fuck it" and walk out of the room. ANYway, we now come to their video for the excellent, EXCELLENT song 'Star Crawl' from last year's Nature Noir LP. Vistas in washed out colours, inverted colours, UV raided rays. It fits the wasted malaise of this "ballad" perfectly. As an added bonus, here is a more punked-up track, in line with where they are headed next...

And now for something completely different...

Melbourne's Orlando Furious recorded this back in June. It's on his fresh EP (watch this space regarding that...). Ben is a performance artist, there is no doubting that - but not only is the film clip suitably weird and crazy, but the track 'Fresh' is emblematic of the kind of lo-fi electronic nonsense that ...So We Drowned era Liars revelled and excelled in. It's an amazing song, and proves that Orlando Furious could very well be a fucking genius.

Here is a duo from Auckland playing a warped drone pop a la Wooden Shjips being bled out into the veins of Japandroids (yes I'm into my band comparisons today - sue me). Its standard band-playing-in-a-room fare, with footage projected over them, weird unrelated footage woven together, some slightly Satanic imagery subliminally jumping forth. Above all its a loud as all get out song that really promises a lot. The scrawling squall at the last ten seconds that shows the underbelly of Invisible Threads as masked madmen is a nice touch also.

And let's finish with another guitar feedback heavy song, this one in the stretched out cosmic psych variety, from another Melbourne outfit, Naked Bodies. Another clip relying on incredible editing of bizarre archival footage. And again, when done right like it is here, it is some of the most evocative, alluring, hallucinogenic imagery that you can imagine, and infinitely heightens the appeal of 'Ride On'. In fact the clip is so good it actually supersedes the song. Not a bad thing - it means I have heard 'Ride On' twice as much (if not more) than I would have had the footage not been there. 


Rise On The Stressed Waves Of Ruin

It's amazing to think of the bands that I tried on numerous occasions to get on a Sonic Masala bill to no avail. Blank Realm has probably been the biggest one to date to slip through the fingers (although both Dan Spencer and Luke Walsh have played shows in weirder forms), whilst Per Purpose was meant to play the first ever Sonic Masala showcase - the honour went to Glen Schenau's then other project Psy Ants. A much smaller band that I tried a couple of times to get on a lineup was Stress Waves. The lurking synth broiling brilliance comes from the mind of Errol Hoffman (To The North, Make More) with Nick Williams (Throes) on discombobulated vocals. Whilst Errol graced a Campfire Tales show as his solo guise Perfume Garden (which was great by the way), the Stress Waves shows have been few and far between, with Josh Strange (To The North, Quiet Steps) playing bass to beef these wrapped-in-plastic warbles to arrhythmic life. Lost Lustre, their three-song introduction to the world, floored me and made it onto the excellent Wood & Wire roster, whilst another EP in the shape of Lurid Abyss surfaced briefly like a bloated cadaver wrapped in black rose petals last year.

But now we have Orphic Ruin, their first proper album, out on cassette through Second Empire Media (You Beauty, the aforementioned Perfume Garden). This kind of coldwave regression doesn't come from Brisbane, the city of sweaty squats and necessarily bared flesh. Tracks like 'Selenic Visions' and 'Elemental Decline' feel much more suited to the nocturnal black-on-white netherscapes of northern Europe, complete with dark apparel and glazed, disdainful stares into the middle spaces, hair combed vehemently to one side, efficient fetishism. The fact that is is so effortless gives Orphic Ruin a sense of realism that defies the geography of its conception - an anguished gnashing of emotions, deliberately throwing back at expectations. Toneless moaning, distant laconic beats, all switched into other unexpected gears by the synth lines that can suddenly tear rays of light into the moping mix.

Maybe Stress Waves could play a certain festival in 2015, what do you say guys?

Tuesday, 19 August 2014

Stopping The Mysterious Giggly Boys

Music is a funny ol thing. I wasn't going to write about New York punks Giggly Boys. My bro-from-another-mo sent their EP to me, the bafflingly titled .. That is a full stop. As the title. That is not the reason I wasn't going to talk about it. No. He sent it to me because he heard that I liked Protomartyr (and if he bothered to read Sonic Masala he would have known that before now. I kid, you're alright mate!) and these dark and mysterious yowlers have been playing shows with them of late. But we couldn't really decide whether we liked the songs or not. He decided he didn't; so did I in fact. I even labelled them thus:

It's bog standard. I enjoy it, then forget about it 

Then I woke up this morning, hopped in the shower - and really felt a need to listen to second track 'Sick Joke'. I wanted a Murder City Devils track to soundtrack the opening of my day, but had this at hand instead. I plugged it into the speakers (yes my new shower has speakers) and let fly. Then I let the EP play out. And now it is Tuesday afternoon and I'm still listening to it. Everything is played to a concise manner, with nothing forced (which I originally thought) nor overly original being put in play - there are howls a la John Dwyer to punctuate certain elements from the warbled, just hinged enough vocalist; there is a bridled anger simmering away, drenched in monochrome and baked vitriol. 'Model Behaviour' feels retro, with kraut rhythms permeating throughout; 'Joel's River' has the barked lo-fi mayhem that ...Trail Of Dead embraced early on; closer 'Acid Fight' turns full circle to that Murder City Devils feel (and could be the best some on the EP). It's burning into my synapses. In short - I like it. It needs to be blasted on speakers though, pushed to its limits. I know nothing more about them. If you do, point me in their direction. I'm hooked.

Monday, 18 August 2014

The Food Court Keeps You Young

Sydney's Food Court continue to impress. I dug their Smile At Your Shoes EP, and off the strength of it I convinced Tape/Off to include them on their album tour bill back in June. They stand a little apart from most of their Sydney brethren - mainly because their brand of fun involves slack jawed grins, cars with the windows down and no a/c, head banging good times. Well, actually that could fit with much of what Straight Arrows do - but seeing as they are one of the most fun live bands currently on this wide brown land, it's a great feeling to know they have support. And whaddaya know - SA's Owen Penglis recorded the sucker! And Mikey Young (*trademark*) mastering to boot. You can't get more Aussie garage rock than that. Except they're named Food Court, so... maybe more Aussie Hungry Jack's rock. You can catch em play alongside Yes I'm Leaving and Black Zeros at the Sly Fox in Sydney on September 4 before they officially launch the single on September 20. An EP is in the works. Tasty.

Sunday, 17 August 2014

Climbing The Leafy Rat Columns

Why not bliss out this Sunday on a West Australian done good? Rat Columns is David West, who you might recognise from the excellent Rank/Xerox. The dude has been hunkered down in San Francisco for some time, and whilst his presence has been well and truly felt, it's his more heartfelt kraut yearnings with Rat Columns that West truly hits his stride. The trio have a new album out on RIP Society, Leaf, which you can grab here. It's a mixture of twanged out New Wave myopics and longsighted C86-aping jams, conducive to impromptu interpretive dances with a goblet of red wine in the lounge room at 2 in the morning... So that's our Sunday sorted then... And you might notice some synth lines coming to play here - courtesy of man-of-all-trades Mikey Young.

Saturday, 16 August 2014

Tripping Out In The Technicolour Lodge

I heard White Lodge before I saw them. It isn't that strange to admit in any form - but the strange thing was that they were from around Brisbane way and I had never heard of them before. What's worse/better, their EP Holy Void was a cracker, with a Murder City Devils vibe trickling out from the viscous cracks held within. They then put out a split record with Taiwan band Forests (who are fucking amazing by the way), supported The Growlers, and then I got them to play a show alongside Melbourne's Heads of Charm, the inimitable Turnpike and the brooding champions Howling Seas - and now here we are, at EP #2. Technicolour Visions continues where Holy Void left off - another six tracks of surf garage gurns and grit, dirty and blasted, but still clean enough to take home to your mum. Where will these guys end up next? I don't know - but they need to play more shows, get their records out there, and slay. Which they will. Drop in and schiz out.